


high on drama

by Houjuu



Category: The Lorien Legacies - All Media Types
Genre: Drug Use, Gen, Weed mention, legit nigel just gets high with bertrand and eight, mentioned cagel rather than actual cagel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 04:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20383831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Houjuu/pseuds/Houjuu
Summary: It was such a stupid thing to argue over, but Nigel was nothing if he wasn’t a petty bitch. His boyfriend couldn’t help being raised in a painfully country loving home and knowing nothing about the punk scene besides what Nigel has told him, but it was still his fault he was a country music fan dating a punk rocker.Nigel goes to rant to Bertrand about his boyfriend's country aesthetics only to find the beekeeper smoking it up with Number Eight.





	high on drama

It was such a stupid thing to argue over, but Nigel was nothing if he wasn’t a petty bitch. His boyfriend couldn’t help being raised in a painfully country loving home and knowing nothing about the punk scene besides what Nigel has told him, but it was still his fault he was a country music fan dating a punk rocker.

Walking in on Caleb willingly listening to pop country, however, was too much for the British punk. He needed to find his people, those who understand the power of The Adicts and everything Green Day did for modern music. At this second, however, Ran was currently out with Isobela and Kopano trying to help the nervous boy shop for a gift for Taylor’s birthday next week and Fleur, a former scene kid with taste, was out with Dani on a date for their anniversary. 

He has one option left and this option was just as country as Caleb, but less flannel wearing and a huge pushover who listened to him complain no matter what the topic was.

When he gets to the door of his destination, Nigel practically rips off the door of Bertrand’s dorm room. It was always unlocked for when the punk needed to burn off some of his chaotic energy somewhere and Bertrand would never turn Nigel away from a needed vent. He opens his mouth to start complaining about how out of touch with culture Caleb was when a column of smoke washes over his face before he could even get out a single word.

This was new. 

“Eyy, welcome to the party, my man, we’re about to hit hyperspeed,” came the cheery voice of none other than Number Eight. The Garde was sitting in front of a small bowl full of ashes with Bertrand directly across from him, a large joint rolled tight between his fingers and the other hand poised in a wave. Bertrand looks up at his friend with a soft smile, much more relaxed than Nigel thinks he’s ever seen him. 

“Well, that explains the skunk smell from the last hour, ya bloody teaheads. Nine’s gonna be pissed,” Nigel remarks as he walks into Bertrand’s dorm, talking a seat next to his bee loving friend and holding out a hand. The beekeeper supplies the blonde the remains of his own joint wordlessly. He should have assumed the German farm boy might have been a pot smoker, but he was surprised it took him this long to figure it out. 

“What ol’ Stanley doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Eight chirps, lifting his joint up to take another hit. “Besides, I’m like, kind of a staff member anyway. You kids can blaze it with me, it’s legal.”

Bertrand snorts at Eight calling himself a staff member, but doesn’t say anything else. He keeps his eyes out in front of him, leaning back on his hands. Still smiling in a serene way.

“This lil’ light up couldn’t have come at a better time, gentlemen. My boyfriend is an uncultured, country music wanker and I about had it,” Nigel starts his usual high temper rant, taking a long hit. “Told him to shove his Keith Urban shit up his ass and strutted out in a blaze of leather glory. Shoulda seen his dumb beautiful, face, I wish I had sunglasses and a guitar solo to accompany it.” 

“Country music is good,” Bertrand replies softly, shrugging when Nigel whips a glare in his direction. Sober Bertrand would just hum and nod along with Nigel when he ranted along about everything and nothing that mattered, but High Bertrand didn’t have the same anxiety of being in a conversation to hold him back. Bertrand then smirks. _ Smirks _ at him. “You just can’t live without drama so you make your own, Nig.”

So it was _ that kind _ of party. 

“Yeah my guy, go with the flow, let Captain America have his flannel loving, boots-year-round thing like you have your… whatever the hell your aesthetic is called,” Eight replies, waving a hand around in the air. 

“It’s anarchist, good ol’ punk rock. Down with the establishment kind of shit-”

“Loridas, even your talking voice is loud, kid,” Eight cuts him off with a groan. “Take a hit and relax once in a while, you gay siren.”

“Nav thinks that you don’t relax enough,” Bertrand adds, turning to look at his friend with the same soft, relaxed smile he’s had since Nigel walked in. “He said you’re kind of like Professor Nine sometimes, all bite and no action. ”

Nigel stares at the bee speaker like he’d reached over and slapped him. 

Bertrand isn’t deterred by Nigel’s expression as he continues on.

“Your punk aesthetic asks for you to stop caring about little things, but your gayness loves the spectacle that drama makes too much to follow your ripped shirts into the void. You need to look at the details and make a fuss over nothing because that’s what us chaotic gays just do. Caleb’s been trying to outgrow all of the offensive middle American morals he was brought up with on top of accepting everything that you love with open arms.”

Nigel looks down at the roll in his hand with thought. These high assholes were onto something, he _ did _love to live in gossip and drama, no matter how un-punkrock it made him. And Caleb did listen to all of his rants about the Ramones with an open mind because he had a genuine interest in his boyfriend’s hobbies. Caleb was shaking off the products left from his environment while also learning to accept that he was attracted to men and loved Nigel Barnaby entirely.

“Whatever,” the Brit grumbles, looking up to take another hit. “It takes you twits rolling zoots to make any valid points, anyway.” 

Bertrand breaks out into a giggle next to Nigel, to which the blonde shoots him a curious glare.

“Zoots is a funny slang term. Caleb likes the drama as much as you do too, he won’t ever admit it. It’s his inner gay energy. He thinks you're the cutest when you’re so confident and smug about getting away with something, especially when you’re being petty.” 

“Alright, who the fuck are you and what did you do with Bertrand,” Nigel asks with slightly reddening cheeks, breaking into a smile at the sight of his friend spouting wisdom and arguing with him. 

“Straight up,” Eight pipes up, drawing the attention of the two humans to him. He takes one final hit of his joint before pushing the smoking end into the bowl in the middle of them.’

“No one else ever wanted to smoke when I got here. I lit up in India all the time to help calm my lingering anxiety from my Cepan getting killed and running for my life. And like, I still got my own issues to work through, but it’s also for fun too. But, none of the other Garde aside from Five ever want to light up with me and Five’s too busy trying to bang Adam. And all of us agree that John should just say fuck it and light the hell up sometime since he’s so uptight about _ literally everything _. Then I saw this funky little guy trying to sneak a pipe and a suspicious bag of “oregano” onto campus and now we’re annual smoke bros. ‘Trand kinda becomes an asshole when he’s high, I live for it.” 

“I just don’t overthink nearly as much when I’m high,” Bertrand shrugs sheepishly. “I can forget being the public me for a few hours, say and do what I always hold myself back from doing in front of everyone else. I’m so nervous all the time, I want to say and do the right things instead of the Bertrand things. High Bertrand can do all of those things. Which is why I kind of never talk back to you when you’re in a rant.”

Bertrand pauses to laugh about something, leaning his head back against his bed frame.

“But sometimes Nigel, gosh do you sound like an absolute idiot. I wear flannels too and you like sitting with me enough, you gossip column.”

Nigel stares at his friend, before he himself starts to laugh. 

“I’m not a gossip column, you honeycomb,” he says between giggles. He was starting to really like this side of his best friend, the blunt honest one who was no longer too anxious to make the same kind of remarks in the same room.

“Punk Buzzfeed." 

“I’m using that,” Eight says, stretching out on the carpet of the dorm. “Don’t let Stan have that nickname, it’s mine.” 

“Jerks,” Nigel replies with no real heat, inhaling from his joint again. “Maybe you two should get high and do a campus roast. Embarrass the shit out of some people with all of this weed forte.”

“We light up to forget that everyone else irritates us,” Eight points out, laying his head on the floor so he was staring up at the ceiling. “But you make a good point, you useless speaker, except we don’t have the need to be the mean girl at the party like you do. Being an asshole isn’t a personality trait. Actually, wait, it might be. My point still stands.”

“Tosser.”

“Sit here and relax with us,” Bertrand reaches over and puts a hand on Nigel’s shoulder. “And when you’re ready, go tell that country boy of yours that you’re only kind of sorry for being a punk gay and you absolutely love the way that one red flannel hangs off of his biceps.”

Nigel responds by running a hand into Bertrand’s hair and ruffling it with a soft smirk. 

“Thanks for the rant space, you fuckin’ muppet.” 

“Am I really the muppet between the two of us though, be honest with yourself.”

“Now that that’s over, let’s get back to business,” Eight cuts in suddenly. He raises a hand up to the ceiling and points to nothing. 

“Do you think I could shapeshift into a joint and have you guys smoke me or would that hurt too much? Would I see myself burn away or would I get just as high because I would have, like, a weed nose or something?” 

“Ok, now this is what I expected when I first walked in,” Nigel scoffs while Bertrand doubles over in a fit of laughter. 

“Alright ya jerk, how about this one: do you think Nine and John are together and just aren’t saying anything?” 

“Who on campus _ doesn’t _think that?”

“...fair fucking point.”

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a discord inside joke for two years straight and then I decided today is the day this fandom got its Eight and Bertrand are High Best Friends content. 
> 
> I gave up halfway through trying to find British slang and pretending I knew how the UK talks. I've never actually smoked either, so uhhhh this is probably wildly inaccurate, but hey. Here we are.


End file.
